


Desideratum

by growtilltall (ThereAreFiveLights)



Category: Daft Punk
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, First Kiss, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-25
Updated: 2014-03-25
Packaged: 2018-01-16 23:19:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1365394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThereAreFiveLights/pseuds/growtilltall
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's one thing to desire someone and another to be desired. Sometimes two people need each other, but they're too frustrated by their own desire to act.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Desideratum

**Author's Note:**

> Based on my own prompt: Guy & Thomas are sexually attracted, but they're too nervous to have sex face to face. They've also never kissed. This was literally supposed to be a PWP, but it ended up being... a little more than that. 
> 
> Shameless plug for my tumblr : http://greatest-stupendous-calamity.tumblr.com/

They'd always been attracted to each other on some level, Guy thought.

Their adolescence was filled with jokes about their relationship, usually made by their friends, but sometimes admitted in half-truths when they were both under the influence of one thing or anther. Guy still remembered the night of the almost-accident, when he'd pulled Thomas out of the road in a drugged stupor.

That night had been different from the rest. They'd danced together at the club, even before Guy decided to give in to peer pressure and try ecstasy for the first time. In the darkness broken by strobe lights, Thomas had found him on the dance floor and gripped him tightly with his long fingers and whispered filth into his ear, his barely concealed hard-on grinding against his hip.

In the month that followed, the moment was forgotten. Guy all but moved in with Thomas and dealt with his withdrawal from the drug he'd taken for granted for an entire year. He was there for all the mood swings and the insomnia, the long days when Thomas would stay in bed and ignore the world around him.

Guy watched his best friend waste away, reject food until his slender build turned into something more like gaunt. Every minute was agony.

They never talked about the rest of the night, how close they'd been to shattering the very foundations of their friendship. It was a secret, a purposefully forgotten memory.

The night of the Grammys, Thomas held him tightly once more. In a room full of people, he'd pulled him close and spoken again, words only they could hear- not about sex and need like the night at the club, but of intimacy and desire.

Guy had pulled away from the embrace shaken, exposed and raw in a way he'd forgotten was possible. And then they stood on stage together and Guy hated him with every fiber of his being, feeling naked and alone as Thomas passed him their prize.

Standing there, listening to the applause, Guy felt sick to his stomach.

 

 _"You complete me."_  

 

The after party never seemed to end. By the end of the night, it was close to dawn and Guy had long abandoned his helmet, choosing instead to mingle and nurse a stale glass of champagne without the cover of anonymity. Those few people that recognized him said little other than tease his helmet hair, and to everyone else he was just a nameless face.

He didn't bother looking for Thomas, who had always been more of a social butterfly. When it came time to go back to their room, conveniently located in the very same building, he simply retrieved his helmet and gloves and took the elevator alone.

What he'd planned was to take a quick shower and fall into bed and hopefully forget about the entire affair, but fate seldom worked the way he wanted it to, especially when he needed it the most.

The light in his room was already on when he entered, and Thomas was standing by the window, looking out at the city lights of Los Angeles. The skyline was already tinged with the upcoming sun, giving Thomas a halo of dull orange.

"Why are you here, Thomas?" Guy asked tiredly. He dropped his helmet and gloves on the bed and dug into his pocket for his cigarettes.

"You're not supposed to-"

"I know I'm not supposed to fucking smoke," Guy snapped, trying without success to light his cigarette. "So call the fucking police."

Thomas's mouth snapped shut, his jaw tight.

"You're angry," Thomas said. He looked more stunned than anything and Guy almost felt guilt for his reaction, but then he remembered that night at the club.

This was just going to be another forgotten night. An imagined encounter.

"Damn right I'm fucking angry!" Guy shouted, his frustration coming to a head and boiling over. "Saying shit like that in front of everyone, are you stupid or something?"

He crushed his cigarette, grinding the dry tobacco into his palm as Thomas's expression twisted into one of anguish. He could still hear Thomas's voice in his mind, even with the static of their communication system.

 

_"I want you so much."_

 

"Why do you have to make things so difficult?" Guy asked, sitting at the end of the bed. "Aren't things already complicated enough?"

Thomas moved warily over to the bed and crouched in front of him. He moved as if to extend a touch of comfort and pulled back quickly, gaze falling to the floor.

"I'm sorry, Guillaume," he whispered. "If I'd realized you didn't feel the same way anymore... I would have kept my mouth shut."

Guy's heart jumped his throat with a jolt. Thomas kept talking softly, wringing his hands and staring dejectedly at anything except Guy, and all Guy could think was-

"You were serious. You were actually fucking serious."

Minutes later, neither of them had moved. Thomas reached out tentatively and took Guy's hand in his, asking, "Do you want this?"

They stayed in separate rooms that night, but Guy didn't sleep. He stayed awake, standing by the window to watch the sun rise. It moved slowly into the sky, sleep heavy from the weight of the horizon. His phone alarm ringing was a welcome distraction from his thoughts. It was time to go back to Paris.

 

_"You're the only person I could ever share this with."_

 

Making Random Access Memories, they'd spent so much time overseas, going to studios all over the place, that Guy had forgotten how it felt to wake up in his own bed and look out at the Paris skyline. No matter how much time he spent in the United States, France felt irrevocably like home and there had been times when he'd yearned for it. All of his memories were here, in this place.

Thomas was already up in the kitchen, having opted to stay in the guest room for a few days while they recovered from the stress of travel rather than go to his own home. He hadn't asked to do so, and Guy hadn't questioned his motives. It was simply the way things were.

"Do you wanna go out somewhere today?" Thomas asked as Guy moved beside him at the counter, pulling a mug from the cabinet. "It looks nice out."

Guy shook his head. "I'd rather just stay in."

The air between them was awkward- silent to the point of being loud. They looked at each other openly now. Guy made no effort to conceal his stares when they lingered over Thomas's mouth when he spoke or at the strong length of his body when he moved. And he'd felt Thomas's looks as well- prickling the back of his neck like a constant buzz.

"I want to stay in with you," Guy clarified. He continued quickly, trying to get out what he meant before nerves got the better of him, "I want to talk about the hotel, and what it means for us."

He felt Thomas's eyes on him first, and then the touch of his hand on the small of his back. Heat swelled under his skin as Thomas slid in behind him, chest pressed to his back. Thomas's breath was hot on his neck and he closed his eyes, reaching back to take Thomas's hands in his and guide them to his hips.

"I still want this," Thomas said softly. "I just- I don't know how to... start."

It occurred to Guy then what the problem was- they never looked at each other at the same time. It was always one or the other, a game of looking away as much as stealing glances.

"Go put on your helmet," he said suddenly, "And come to my room."

Thomas pulled away and Guy met his look of confusion with a playful smirk.

"Just trust me on this one, okay?"

 

 _"I love you._ "

 

The slide of Thomas's body against his set his nerve endings on fire. Guy clung to his shoulders, nails digging into his back as they rocked together with the unhurried rhythm of morning sex. Thomas's hands were strong, pressing Guy's thigh up towards his chest as he drove deeper, hips rolling forward like waves.

The helmets, of course, made things a bit inconvenient, but the pressure to look at each other was gone.

Guy tilted his head back and cried out as Thomas picked up the pace, fingers sliding along his sweaty skin and causing a shift in their position. Suddenly, Thomas was grinding hard against him and it felt good, better than good- he could feel Thomas becoming a part of him, cradling him- but Guy couldn't quite catch his breath, like the air was being punched straight out of his lungs.

"Tho-Thomas," he struggled, voice broken by a choked moan, "Thomas I can't- Wait-"

Thomas paused his movements, still buried deep within Guy's body, his chest rising and falling rapidly with exertion. Guy fumbled with his helmet, trying to sit up and stay connected and catch his breath all at once- unable to breathe and unwilling to pull away- and then it was off.

He swallowed in a lungful of air and ran his hands through his sweat slicked hair, face damp and red. Even through the helmet, Guy heard Thomas groan, felt it in the vibration of his body as he began to move again, harder than before. Guy clenched his thighs around Thomas's middle and he sank into the rhythm, back arching against the sheets.

Still, he felt like he was drowning, like his lungs had already been filled with water and now he just had to resign himself to his fate and let go peacefully.

"God, you feel so good," Guy began to babble, dragging his fingers down Thomas's shoulders to his forearms, "Don't stop, don't ever fucking stop."

Thomas shuddered against him, hips jerking hard for a moment, and then Thomas was prying out of Guy's grasp and yanking his own helmet before flinging it off. It rolled on the bed and fell to the floor with a thud, but Guy didn't even hear the sound because Thomas's mouth was pressed against his own, his beard tickling at his chin and cheeks.

"I've wanted this so long," Thomas said against his mouth, pausing to suck at Guy's lower lip, "I was always so scared to look at you-" another messy kiss, wet and needy, "You're beautiful like this."

Guy wrapped his hand around the back of Thomas's neck and held him close, their breath mingling and eyes never straying from each others. He couldn't tell where his body ended or Thomas's began, the tangle of limbs scrambled his senses and all Guy could do was let the feelings come, let them fill him and overflow, like rainwater spilling over the rim of a glass.

He heard himself shouting, his body tensing and Thomas holding still against him. His mouth found Thomas's shoulder and he pressed his mouth to it, kissing the smooth skin and then biting softly as he spilled between their bodies. Climax came in colors and warmth, his eyes shut so tight his head began to throb, and he vaguely felt Thomas pulsing inside him, through the condom, the heat of it.

Tears sprang to his eyes and Guy's head fell back to the pillows. His body was euphorically numb, but that didn't stop his face from heating as his chest tightened.

"Fuck," he growled, pressing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "Fuck, don't look at me."

He felt Thomas prying gently at his wrists and long fingers carding through his hair.

"It's okay," Thomas mumbled, voice hoarse with sex. "Don't hide from me anymore."

Guy opened his eyes and ignored the sting of the air in them.

"I'm so fucking lame," he said, trying to laugh. The tears, what few of them had escaped, had stopped, but his eyes felt swollen regardless. Thomas leaned in close and kissed one eye, and then the other.

"We're both lame," Thomas said, pressing a third kiss to his cheek. "We could have done this years ago, and instead we ran from each other like children."

"Kiss me again."

Thomas's mouth moved slowly against his, exploring the contour of his lips, learning the taste of his tongue. They lived in one another now, isolated in this rumpled bed.

_"You're home to me, you always have been."_

 

 


End file.
